picked it up as it finished its second full
ring. But before I could utter a word, his haunting voice began to speak.

"Hey Hill, what's shaking?"

That he doesn't call often is a good thing; that he calls at all is a bad thing. He's
unpredictable ... he's irrational ... he's even a bit scary ... he's Jungle Jim Bruney.
And to those of us who know him from the "old days" on the west side, nothing
else really needs to be said.

"Not much, Jungle Jim. What can I do for you?"

"Well Hill, I'm glad you asked. You see, I was talking to my cousin Jeff from Ohio
... the one in the auto glass business ... and he was telling me that he reads your column
every month in USGlass."

"What cousin Jeff?"

"Hill, you remember my cousin Jeff. He's the one who married my other cousin Beth.

"Oh sure, now I remember. Did they ever have any kids?"

"Yeah, they had kids. But I don't want to talk about it."

"OK then, Jungle Jim. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well Hill, I need a favor. You see, cousin Jeff from Ohio--who is in the auto
glass business--feels like he and the rest of the small independent auto glass guys are
being treated like second class citizens. They feel like nobody is paying attention to
them and their plight. You know how they keep getting squeezed by the insurance guys, the
suppliers, the networks and everybody else that comes along. So I told my cousin Jeff that
me and you were real tight and that I'd get you to put together one of your little holiday
jingles to let people know that times aren't what they used to be for some of these
guys."

"And what if I say 'no' to this request of yours?"

"Well Hill, who starts your car for you in the morning?"

"I do ... why?"

"Cause if you don't do a little jingle in honor of my cousin Jeff, you ain't gonna
want to start your own car ever again. You get my 'drift' Hill?